


Christmas in The Coatroom

by gracediamondsfear



Category: Dramione - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, D/s Vibes, F/M, First Time, Ministry Christmas Party, Mr. M and Kitten, Panty Play, Sort of exhibitionism, Strictly Dramione, Suspenders and Stockings, Wall Sex, What's new, crabby draco, pesky mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracediamondsfear/pseuds/gracediamondsfear
Summary: By request, the continuing story of Mr. M and Kitten.Draco hates the Ministry Christmas Party but attendance is mandatory. However, this yearnsome interesting news about Hermione Granger has finally put him in the holiday spirit. Rated E for completely unnecessary filth.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 342
Collections: Mr. M and Kitten, Strictly Dramione Christmas Fest 2019





	Christmas in The Coatroom

MALFOY FLAT, LONDON

  
They were late for the Ministry Christmas Party that he didn’t even want to go to and wouldn’t were it not made painfully clear that while not _mandatory_ it was HIGHLY ENCOURAGED for all upper level employees to MAKE AN APPEARANCE. Hermione, who for some unknown reason loved socializing and spending time with other people, did her best to keep spirits high, pouring Draco drinks as they got dressed, feeding him little mini mince pies and singing carols at the top of her extremely, painfully off key voice. But he was still pouting as he tied his tie for the third time in front of the bedroom mirror.

“When you start making parties a requirement for the staff, that’s when you know things are going straight to hell. Not even Voldemort demanded we celebrate as a group.” 

He checked the tie, snarled at his reflection, untied it and prepared to start again before Hermione walked up and worked on it herself.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, folding the black silk in on itself (Draco felt that using charms on fabric did damage to the fibers and wouldn’t allow it) “I think they knew that when they did away with the silent auction and the live music and all of the other things that getting anyone to come voluntarily would be a hard sell. But there’s still an open bar, and we’ll still have our friends there, and we still have things to celebrate this Christmas, don’t we?”

She smiled, her engagement ring glinting off the low light of their bedroom sconces. He sighed in resignation and kissed her hand, arranging his hair one last time. There were always paparazzi at these things, waiting for some sort of scandal. When he and Hermione announced their engagement there was a collective sigh of disappointment that their relationship hadn’t ended in a knock down drag out fist fight in the middle of Diagon Alley.

“Look here, Granger. We’ll stay for…an hour. Two at the very most,” he said, wagging a finger in her face. It was a very particular finger, as it wore a black leather ring; the miniaturized version of her collar that she wore during their playtime. He wanted to make sure that she saw him wearing it; and he would do so all night, casually tapping it against a glass, twirling it with his thumb. “And then we’ll come home,” he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her in close, “and celebrate the coming holiday in our own, traditional way.”

“Or,” she said, raising an eyebrow and kissing the M signet ring on his third finger, “we could enjoy the company of our friends, partake in the free baked brie and creme caramel and stay until the very end, and celebrate just like we did the first time.”

  
THREE YEARS EARLIER

The only good thing Malfoy could say about the Ministry Christmas Party was that it was one of the finest open bars he’d ever ransacked. With every cocktail he ordered he demanded the top shelf liquor and watched carefully to make sure the bartender poured generously…after all, he’d lured their service with a full galleon tip the minute he’d walked in the door. Other than the bar there was the standard buffet of substandard food, a band he’d heard at a thousand other functions, drunk witches tripping over their heels on the dance floor, drunker wizards laughing too loud at jokes that were not at all funny…

And Granger.

Stupid brilliant big mouth gorgeous perfect Granger wearing black stockings with a seam running up the back. 

He’d been working on her floor for nearly a year, attending meetings, suffering weekly “team luncheons” that were like having a leg slowly sawed off, and she’d been nothing but friendly, professional, fair and…beautiful. She was so achingly, god damned beautiful that it just didn’t even make sense to him how he’d missed it before. Of course he’d been an idiot for a long time in his younger days. It had been nearly ten years since the war, and old school loyalties and rivalries were long gone. He could simply look at her as a witch…a co-worker, a woman. A bloody amazing woman. 

He sat at a table alone; Pansy and Theo had left early to hit some muggle clubs downtown and Blaise was off on a pussy hunt on the other side of the room. In a way he was grateful because it meant he could watch Hermione in peace. Watch her laugh, chat, shake her head with her smiling lips pursed tightly like she always did when he knew she was holding her tongue. Her hair was pinned up in a twist with a jeweled comb and at one point she yawned behind her hand and pulled it free, letting the caramel brown locks burst loose, falling in waves past her shoulders. It was sleek and shiny and not at all the bushy, unruly mane he’d remembered teasing her for. Seeing her hair down and her cheeks pink brought several dozen inappropriate images to mind and he indulged himself in all of them while sipping at his drink. So lost was he in his filthy imagination that he’d missed Harry’s approach.

“Happy Christmas Malfoy,” he said, sliding into the seat beside Draco, his eyes a little red and unfocused. When Aurors got the chance to let loose and party…they took it.

“And a Blessed New Year, Potter,” Draco said dramatically, raising his glass. “I thought you’d be with your little…gang,” he said, waving his hand in Hermione’s direction, giving him another excuse to stare at her and her fitted, low cut dress showing the beautiful curve of her tits, the slope of her hips…

“Nah. Once she and Ron split, I sort of gave them some space. We all needed to do a little —“

Harry was talking but Draco had stopped listening after split. She and Ron had split. Well well well. He sipped at his drink and signaled for another, watching Hermione with a whole new set of eyes. 

  
“Enjoying the party, Granger?”

Hermione looked up at a sleepy eyed, half smiling Draco, looming over her with drink in hand. His hair was playfully mussed, tie undone and if she’d had just one more vodka tonic she would have kissed him right on the mouth just to see what those pouty pink lips tasted like.

Not that he’d let her.

“More than I thought I would actually. And you?”

Honestly, she was surprised he’d come over to her table at all, unless it was on a dare or as a prank, but he was alone at the party. She knew that because she’d been watching him all night; the way his throat looked when he undid the first couple of buttons of his dress shirt, how his lips glistened after taking a sip of his fire whiskey, the amber candles turning his grey eyes golden in the low light. It was breathtaking.

“Miserable,” he said, sighing. “But that’s sort of my trademark.”

She rolled her eyes and popped a piece of cheese into her mouth. Was she just imagining things or was he staring at her lips? She picked up a strawberry from her plate and tested her theory. Yes, he was staring at her lips, and his own lips parted when she sucked the end of the berry into her mouth. 

“I’ve just heard that you called it quits with Ronald,” he said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “It was fun for a while, at the height of our fame I suppose, when we were always busy, going here and there, making appearances. Then he was in Auror training and I was -“

“Dance with me,” he said, holding out his hand. 

There was something about the authority in his “request” that made her stand up right away. He hadn’t presented it as a question at all. It was an order that he expected her to obey. When she looked up at his eyes they were calm, focused, assured, the corner of his mouth tipped up. He knew she would do what he asked. Something, somewhere deep down and hidden that she never dared to acknowledge lit up in her belly, a tiny flame desperate to be fed, and she stood to take his hand.

  
He was surprised at how quickly and enthusiastically he took her up on his offer, letting him lead her onto the dance floor. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume, or soap, or just HER, a dark and spicy scent, nothing like the flowery bright things that the other ministry witches were so fond of. It was mysterious and filled him with the urge to lean in and bury his nose in her hair. 

“I must say,” he said, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her tight against him. “I thought you’d been looking different around the office…a bit lighter, a bit…more free shall we say?” 

Flirty was the word he was looking for. She sat on the edge of desks with stiletto heels bobbing off her toe, wore v-neck sweaters that highlighted the curves of her breasts in place of the turtlenecks she used to bundle up in. She laughed loud and joined the gang for drinks after work, bringing in tea and biscuits on Fridays. Of course he never partook in any of the jolly office atmosphere, knowing that everyone would act differently if he were to show up, careful of what they said or joked about, wary of mentioning the war or his parents or his house or of course his…basically single handed destruction of Hogwarts. 

“Yes, well, we were clearly together too long…just going through the motions for a while. It feels good to be…” she nearly said “on the prowl” but thought better of herself, especially considering she’d been prowling for him for months.

They were quiet again, but not awkwardly, both just enjoying the sensations of their hands pressed together, her chest against his, the mingling of their breath. He gave her a twirl and she giggled, looking down at her feet. And while he loved the demure and soft picture she presented, he didn’t like her looking away from him.

“Your presentation on grants for witch healers was quite compelling,” he said, nearly kicking himself at how stilted and ‘professional’ it sounded. As if they were interviewing for a job. “Even Blaise found himself thinking giving money away for free was worthwhile and you know that’s a feat.”

“Indeed,” she said.

Her smile was genuine, her eyes sparkling, but they were focused over his shoulder somewhere. Hermione Granger…was nervous. 

The song changed to something a bit slower, a bit more sultry and Draco kept them on the floor, leading her to a far corner, their bodies connected down to the hip. She felt hot, her mouth dry, and she could swear she felt something…distinct pressing into her stomach.

“Hermione,” he said, using her first name for what was maybe the first time ever, stopping the dance but not letting her go. “Look at me.”

A thrill raced through his blood at her instant response, her eyes flicking up to meet his, a small smile on her face. 

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked, starting to sway with her once again. “You won’t look at me when we’re talking.”

“I’m just surprised you’re talking to me at all,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t expect you to rush up and call me names but we’ve never really been… _dance partners_.”

“No,” he said, smiling. “That’s for sure. But let’s just say that I’ve been interested in… _dancing_ with you for quite some time.”

Her cheeks flushed a deep, gorgeous red and she looked away from him again. He took a chance and put two fingers on her cheek, turning her back to face him. When she didn’t resist he kept his fingers there, stroking down the line of her jaw, her throat, to the pulse on the side of her neck. Racing.

Around the darkened ballroom they heard gasps and groans and laughs burst forth. Above them was one of many crawling green mistletoe branches, tendrils growing, tickling at his temple. 

“Well,” Hermione said quietly, “this is some strange tim-“

He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, just as he’d been imagining doing for weeks, and was surprised to feel her push back, her lips parting. Her hands ran up his back and he kept his fingertips on her neck, his thumb on the hollow of her throat, holding her steady as he slipped his tongue over hers, drawing forth a tiny whimper that went straight to his dick. She deepened the kiss and he closed his hand around her neck, pushing just enough to let her know he was in control and she shivered, whining against his lips when he finished it off with a gentle bite to her lower lip. Finally pulling back to breathe, she stared at him with shining eyes and pink cheeks. Draco ran his fingers through her hair, tipping her head back to nibble at her jawline, kissing the soft skin behind her ear. He wanted to kiss every inch of her skin, see every part of her bared beneath him. 

“It’s Friday night, love,” he whispered. “And this shindig is terribly boring.” His hand slid down to cup her ass, pulling her hips against his. “Can I interest you in a party somewhere else?”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. For months she’d been imagining what it would be like to kiss Draco, to smell his cologne, to touch his skin, to see what he looked like with his shirt off, but because of their past she’d written off the possibility completely. In her mind he was simply an unattainable fantasy she could think about while her hand snuck beneath the sheets. After all, he had his pick of any of a thousand pureblood witches, beautiful women, even a few muggles she’d heard, had snuck into his bed. And yet here he was, asking her to go home with him? Perhaps he’d had more drinks than she previously presumed.

He startled her out of her thoughts by stroking his thumb over the space between her eyes, where her brow had been visibly furrowed. 

“Always thinking, aren’t you, darling? Chewing that poor lip to oblivion.” He moved to touch her mouth, soothing the tooth marks she’d left behind. “What is it now? Your reputation? My reputation? Our past? Your choice of knickers?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head clear and plastering on a smile. If it was just a dream, she was going to make sure it was a good one. She took a deep breath and said “Yes, Draco. Let’s go somewhere else.”

He nodded and took her hand, looking around the room at the dwindling crowd before pulling her toward the entrance. 

“Did you bring a coat?” He asked, walking quickly toward the coatroom. 

“I…it’s in my bag, I shrunk it down…”

“Hmmm. Ok, well, why don’t you come help me look for mine.”

“Oh, well I could wait…”

Draco lifted an eyebrow and with a final glance to make sure they weren't followed pulled her deep into the coatroom, behind the rows and rows of thick wool cloaks and capes to a darkened corner. Before she could even get a word out he pushed her against the wall and kissed her again, his hands roaming down to the hem of her dress, pulling it up over her hips before smoothing his hands over the perfect curves of her ass, spanking one with an audible slap. She clung to his shoulders as he found the lace tops of her stockings and the thin satin suspenders that held them in place.

“Miss Granger,” he gasped, snapping the elastic against her thigh. “Who knew you were a sexy little kitten underneath all that proper behavior?”

She laughed, her hands moving to the buckle of his belt.

“No one ever bothered to ask,” she said, pulling him down into another kiss. 

Just as she moved to hitch her leg up around his hip there was a rustling and sounds of low conversation, people walking between the rows. Without thinking Draco pressed her to the wall, covering her exposed body, his hand clapped over her mouth.

“Shhhh,” he whispered. She stilled and nodded and he added, “Good girl.”

The words slithered through her with a warm and unexpected thrill. Good girl. She’d never heard it said in such a dark and seductive way and the weight of the words was a pulsing heat between her legs that she clenched to try and relieve. But still there were hushed voices in the room, the scrape and scratch of hangers and fabric. She could feel the length of him against her hip and with a raised brow she pushed forward, grinding against him, closing her leg tighter around his, flicking her tongue out across the palm of his heavy hand. A low growl rumbled through his chest and he narrowed his eyes.

“Naughty kitten,” he breathed, his lips against her ear. “You’ll pay for that.”

They were stuck in silence and agony for only five minutes but it felt like an eternity, their bodies so close, touching, on fire with need and desire and yet if they moved they would most certainly be discovered. Even just that knowledge made her skin prickly with arousal and she whimpered under his hand. He grinned mischievously and ran his hand up her legs to the elastic of her knickers, tracing the high cut line of the fabric with one light finger, teasing, tickling, sneaking beneath just to brush over her hip as she squirmed. He moved to the front, his hand on her belly before he twisted the black satin in his hand pulling up so that it was taut against her clit, between her slick lips, dragging through her wetness. Her brow furrowed with frustration and he kept his hand over her mouth, once again shushing her agonized noises. 

“Be a good girl,” he warned. “Or I’ll stop.”

The group in the coatroom burst into laughter and moved towards the exit, but not quickly enough for Hermione’s tastes. Draco tugged upward on the knickers, wiggling and twisting and feeling her heat radiating out to his hand. She bucked forward and he smiled, pulling up again, only gently, lightly, until she was nearly beside herself.

The coatroom was silent, empty and he pulled his hand away from her mouth, kissing her hard, pressing her back to the wall. She let her own hands wander down between her legs, trying to urge him on and he quickly pulled them away, pinning her wrists to the wall above her head. His grip was tight, her fingers splayed out like butterfly wings and she felt another rush of energy as he handled her so roughly, his eyes sparking with lust.

“Patience,” he said, clucking his tongue.

“Draco…please…”

Holding both wrists in one hand he quickly unfastened his pants and yanked her knickers down until she kicked them off her ankle, sending one of her shoes flying in the process. She snuck a look down as he stroked himself and swallowed down a bit of fear at his size. Far larger than Ron, but beautiful and oh so tempting. Draco caught her staring and smiled.

“You want this little kitten?” He asked, stroking slowly, running his thumb over the head of his prick and swiping it over her lip. “You want this cock inside you?”

She sucked his thumb deep into her mouth and curled her tongue around it, once again pulling her leg up and around his hip. She’d never been one for daring public displays or secret rendezvous, but there was something in the way Draco spoke to her, tempted her, tested her that made her want to push her own boundaries. He pulled his thumb from her mouth and spun her around so she faced the wall, her hips pushed out, legs spread, offering every bit of herself. 

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his long fingers sweeping between her pussy lips, circling her clit a few times just to hear her groan. “You’re fucking dripping for me, Hermione. So warm, so wet…”

The hot, blunt head of his cock pressed forward and she exhaled on a sigh of satisfaction, closing her eyes to feel the thick exquisite slide, filling and stretching her until she thought she might come just from that one deep thrust. 

“So fucking tight, kitten,” he groaned in her ear, his hand tangled into her hair to hold her still as he started his feverish rhythm. “God you take me perfectly.”

She whined and sighed, pushing back against him, his breath on the back of her neck, his strong hand pulling back on her hips to drive further. After a minute he pulled out and turned her around, hitching her legs around his waist, holding her to the wall as she clung tight to the chair rail. 

“Come on good girl,” he whispered into her mouth. “Come on my cock. I’ve been waiting to hear this for months.”

Her already racing heart stuttered in her chest and her eyes opened wide, watching Draco’s face, flushed with ecstasy. He kissed her hard, holding her jaw with one hand as his tongue twisted with hers. 

“Dr—draco…” she panted as he kept the pace of their fucking. “I’ve been waiting too.”

His thrusts slowed, his thumb stroking her cheek as he searched her face for signs of sarcasm. There was none. She really had. She really had been waiting for him, he could see the happiness, the relief and want in her eyes. 

“Why…why in the world didn’t you say anything - Hermione…” 

His voice was soft, incredulous and she nearly had to laugh at him, were she not teetering on the edge of what might be the best orgasm of her life. So instead of answering him she rolled her hips and clenched her muscles, attempting to pull him in deeper.

“Draco…we can talk about this in a minute…right now I need —“

He crushed his lips against hers and fucked into her with renewed inspiration, groaning into her open mouth as he felt his own climax tightening like a hot coil, low in his belly, made even better by knowing this wouldn’t be the only time…this wasn’t his last chance to be with Hermione Granger. Maybe it could be something more. 

Her fingernails dug into his back, her thighs squeezing tight, meeting each of his thrusts with a snap of her own hips. Faster…faster, she begged him to push harder, deeper. Hearing the word please whine from her mouth nearly set him off but he did his best to prolong it, giving her what she needed until he could feel her start to twitch and clench around him, tight, deep. 

And then the lights went on, hanging oil lamps in the ceiling flaring to life, bright and invasive with two voices thundering into the coat room. 

_“I told you not to leave it in a public coat room, Virgil. I told you that there are thieves everywhere.”_

Hermione trembled in his arms, her eyes wide as Draco continued his punishing pace, leaning in to growl in her ear.

“Fuck them,” he breathed. “I’ve waited long enough.” She nodded and held tight as he kissed her, grabbing her hips to guide her grinding thrusts. “Let them hear you scream, kitten. Let them hear you come for me.”

_“It isn’t here Marjorie. It just isn’t here. That was my father’s wool cloak. It was a hand stitched Marblefoot Original.”_

_“Well this certainly isn’t MY fault.”_

The couple argued no more than ten feet away from them and the knowledge that the two of them could be discovered somehow made Hermione flush hotter, push faster, her blood nearly boiling with arousal. Part of her wanted to let them hear her come. Deep down she wanted to groan and whine and scream out loud. She wanted to open her eyes and see everyone watching her get thoroughly fucked, let them see the pleasure she was taking with Malfoy…the last person anyone thought she’d ever be with. 

“Oh fuck…I can’t hold…” 

He stuttered in his rhythm and held her against the wall, driving up into her with one last, devastating thrust. He bit into her shoulder and sucked at her skin, his fingers digging deep into her hips, holding her on him, grinding over her clit. She felt him shudder, a hiss escaping between clenched teeth. 

“Draco…my God,” she held tight, watching over her shoulder for unexpected guests that she could still hear shuffling through the cloaks. “Please…”

He lowered her legs and slipped out of her, leaving her feeling limp and empty, leaning against the wall for support. Without a word he went to his knees and spread her legs, eagerly lapping at her open pussy, the mix of her arousal and his seed coating his tongue. She sunk her fingers into his hair and dragged herself over his tongue, guiding his movements as she approached her own climax. 

_“Well Happy Christmas Marjorie…here it is!”_

Her thighs started trembling, squeezing Draco between them as she felt the waves building, the rolling heat between her legs. He slipped two thick fingers into her slick opening and sucked at her clit, throwing one of her calves over his shoulder for better access. 

“Mmm,” he murmured. “You’re flowing like a fountain, witch. Come on…come on my tongue.”

It was all she needed and with one final swipe of his tongue she gasped, covering her own mouth with both of her hands as she shuddered with orgasm. Draco sat kneeling at her feet, watching her with a sort of possessive pride on his face, his wet fingers stroking her legs as she came back down to earth.

Only a moment later the lights in the cloakroom dimmed again and they were alone. He stood and kissed her tenderly, much softer than the frenzied passion from earlier. 

“I must say, Granger. Had I known that the Ministry Christmas Party would include this I would have RSVP’d weeks ago.”

Hermione snorted in laughter, straightening out her stockings and skirt before picking up her black lace knickers and tucking them into Draco’s pants pocket.

“I don’t usually do this on a first date,” she said, smiling.

“Well then, let’s not call it a date love,” he said, threading his belt through the loops of his trousers. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow morning and we can go to breakfast before the 9:30 budget meeting.”

“Wake me up?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as they both walked out of the coatroom with calm confidence. 

Draco put a hand on the small of her back to lead her towards the row of floos flaring with green flame as the party came to an end. He picked up a handful of powder and pulled her in to one of the great stone fireplaces, his hand around her waist keeping her snug against his hip.

“Of course kitten. You didn’t think we were done, did you?” He threw the powder down and said “Malfoy Flat, London. Just please tell me you don’t snore,” before wrapping her in his arms and pulling her into a kiss.


End file.
